xXx NoTmYmAsTeR xXx
by Darkarashi
Summary: Once, long ago, I was alive. And free. Now, I am bound to those who destroy my kin and can not stand to be in my presence. But I suffer through this all for the one I hold dear, though I fear it may end up being my undoing.
1. The King And His Men

A/N: New story. Fear it. And yes, yes this is a crack fic. Sue meh. I'm just wingin' this all.

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X-NoTmYmAsTeR-X

_Chapter One:_

**The King and His Men**

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Once, once I was human.

Once, once a long…_long_ time ago I used to be called nice names. Or nice-er names.

Once, I used to be trusted. And free. Oh so free.

But now, now I am bound. A bird with both wings clipped. Hooded. Belled. On a leash. Not free. The skies are off-limits. Bound by those who find me an abomination. By those who gladly kill my lesser kin. They wanted a trump card. A new one. And they found me. Well, that's actually not true. They tricked me, blackmailed me.

The bastards stole away the very thing I created with my own blood. My child. My own. And now I must serve those who seek to destroy the remainder of my family. Yes, I realize what I write now is terribly cliché, and I ask thee, humble reader to not judge me for that. I am not in my right mind. In their eyes, I am the worst of all sinners, and because there is no way I will ever ask forgiveness for anything I have ever done, I am punished. And as such a terrible, unrepentant sinner they find ways to punish me even as I am forced to submit to being bound. As if bondage to mere mortals wasn't enough.

They keep blood from me, often only giving me enough to operate on the basest of levels. When they do take me out, which is a rarity far beyond what it should be, I am kept away from things that bleed, instead being forced to focus on ghouls and zombies instead of FREAKs and humans. How I long for a bellyful fresh, warm blood instead of the mouthfuls of sterilized, sanitized cold blood. Disgusting. But it is all that I get. And I must take it, to survive. To live as much as the undead can.

All for vengeance. Also be aware, dear reader, that I do in fact know you are reading this. And that you are judging me based on what you read. I am also aware that you may very well be one of the Vatican dogs that have imprisoned me. If that's the case, I hope you realize that when I escape, (not if. _When_.) you will undoubtedly feel my wrath. Not only for the crap you and your superiors have put me through, but tenfold retribution for whatever you have done to my fledgling. Looks are incredibly deceiving. For your own safety, though I care nothing for it, I implore you to remember that.

You didn't complete the ritual.

The seals can be broken.

And when they do, you will know the fury of those whose tastes lie in the macabre.

Blood is what you are made of.

And blood is what I desire.

No bonds can hold me for long. You should know that. You would know that, had you bothered to research me.

But you didn't.

And that, my dear, dear, blood-filled reader, was the first mistake you made when it came to me.

Dark of the Fey

And with that, the female writing snapped the flimsy notebook shut, creating that distinctive clapping sound that accompanied any book being shut. The person nearest here started at the sound, which earned him a derisive and fanged snarl. The girl stood, uncoiling her lithe body to it's full height. She wore a Vatican-approved outfit, all robes and ties and hoods. Nothing brilliant nor terrifying. It really just made her look like an overly effeminate priest. Which really, really annoyed the girl. There was a freaking _rosary_ around her waist for Satan's sake. She wasn't a holy woman, so why was she being made to look like one?

Snarling again, the girl stretched her arms out, relishing the sounds of her cramped muscles and bones cracking loudly. She wasn't allowed to break anything anymore, not since the "unfortunate" incident with Father Anderson a while back. The popping sounds of her bones was enough to satiate her need to destroy. For the moment. But she wasn't one to be fully pleased with the sounds of her own body shifting around. She needed to kill something. Many somethings. Preferably Vatican somethings. Like that stupid prat of Father Anderson. Oh, how she loathed that man.

"Dark," Someone said blandly. A someone with a rather stupid Scottish accent.

Father Freaking Anderson.

"Whaddaya want _now_?" Dark demanded angrily, whirling on the object of a vast majority of her hatred.

He was lucky today. Dark was in a reasonably good mood, for the moment at least, and she hadn't tried to make an attempt on his life. Yet. Her robes settled back down around her ankles. She glared at the green-eyed Scotsman, her posture and fierce stance oozing hatred and loathing for the man in front of her. At the same time she opened her mouth to further annoy and heckle the Judas Priest man, her palms began to burn. A precursor to something far more painful than a slight burning sensation on her hands.

Her posture and stance changed immediately. Her arms uncrossed themselves, her shoulders relaxed, and her glare softened into something passable as a pleasant stare. Father Anderson grinned, and Dark was hard pressed to not leap forward and maul that grin off his face.

"Ah was under the impression that ye wanted yer dahlin' fledgling back," the Scot drawled out.

Any residual fight left in her stance, and Dark's eyes dropped to the floor. Her back slouched a bit. Anderson grinned at her sudden loss of bloodlust. It was an act, for underneath the surface, Dark's emotions raged out of control. Not like Anderson noticed. He, and the others in the Vatican only tended to notice what they wanted too, especially when it came to vampires. Every motion she made was carefully constructed and manicured to make it seem as if she had suddenly given up on fighting the Scotsman, when she was already plotting his demise.

"Please, Father….please just let me see her," Dark said softly, trying to add a note of hopelessness and longing into her voice. Both emotions, she was wholly unfamiliar with and didn't actually feel. But she could pretend and make it so Anderson let her see her beloved fledgling.

Anderson grinned, but didn't shake his head no, and Dark, being as cunning as she was, took the fact that he hadn't explicitly denied her the chance to see her fledgling as reason enough to go and see her. It took only a moment for Dark to arrive at this decision, and after that moment passed, she was gone. Using her vampiric speed, she rushed past him and went straight to where her fledgling was being held. She stopped suddenly, her hands wrapping about the bars, only to draw them back as soon as she touched them. Silver. Lots of it. It usually wouldn't bother her, but being as weak as she was it hurt like hell. She peered into the darkness, trying to make her eyes focus enough to make out the form of her fledgling.

The Vatican hadn't ever done anything to her fledgling, for fear of loosing their one and only bargaining chip. That, and threatening the fledgling often made Dark do their bidding, and most of the stipulations about the threats brought up against the fledgling made it so the fledgling remained unharmed as Dark did the dirty work of the Vatican. Dark only had to stand there for a moment before the joyous cry of "Master!" met her ears.

"Jackie!"

Dark stuck an arm through the bars, ignoring the searing pain that ripped though her body and reached out for her fledgling. Silver burned marks into her flesh, steam rising from the intense burn wounds Dark was practically inflicting upon herself. She felt the cold flesh of her fledgling meet hers, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was still safe, though a captive. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air around Dark, and Jackie's words broke the relative silence.

"Master, you're burning. Let go. Please. Stop, master. You're hurting yourself. MASTER!" Jackie screamed to get Dark's attention.

Dark re-opened her eyes. The pain had made her close them for some reason. Dark quickly retracted her arm and let go of the bars. She could barely make out the outline of her dearly beloved fledgling, but it was enough.

"You okay?" Dark asked, her voice flooded with concern.

She took the fact that Jackie was her fledgling incredibly seriously. Jackie was the skin of her skin, the flesh of her flesh, the bone of her bone, her very blood and livelihood. Everything was for her, and for her alone. Jackie was the daughter that Dark never wanted, but cherished nonetheless.

Jackie nodded, a movement Dark could pick up, even with her eyesight as poor as it had become. Dark grinned, her fangs, as permanently elongated as they were, glistening in the light outside of the cell.

"Make sure they treat you well, little one-it's the only thing that keeps me bound. Are they feeding you well?"

Jackie nodded again, and Dark's stomach growled loudly. She didn't think that undead organs could grumble so, but apparently they could, and her stomach's angered grumblings made her remember just how starved she was. Her skin was an awful pasty white color, and her eyes had shifted from deep crimson to a softer violet. If she didn't get a proper feed in soon, they'd most likely revert back to a more human blue color. The same shade it had been when Dark was living. Jackie looked concerned at the growling of Dark's stomach, but Dark wasn't about to worry her little one with her practical starvation.

Footsteps sounded from down the hallway, and Dark drew back from the cell even further until her back hit the opposite wall. She bent her right knee and placed her booted foot upon the wall her back was resting on. Jackie took the hint and drew back into the confines of her cell. Dark lazily turned her head towards the approaching person, her violet eyes lidded and unfocused. To anyone unfamiliar with the art of reading nearly-immortal vampires, it would appear that Dark, dressed as she was in priestly garments and a few footsteps away from her fledgling just didn't give a damn.

Which was really close to the truth.

But at the same time, it wasn't truth.

Anderson rounded the corner and Dark took as a cue to leave, turning her back to both Anderson and her fledgling, she walked away, shoulders back and her back ramrod straight. Show no weakness. None at all. Anderson, with his stupid long Scottish legs caught up to her easily, and began blathering on and on about what the two of them were being sent out to do. Dark tuned him out, knowing full well that the only reason the Vatican bothered to keep her around was that she was one of the very few fighting full-blooded vampires left. Full-blooded being used loosely here. Dark was full-blooded in the sense that she was not a FREAK, nor was she a fledgling. And the Vatican needed something like that on their side.

'Cause the _Protestants_ had a freaking full-blooded vampire. Alucard. Dark knew she'd stand no chance against him in her current condition. Actually, if she was being truthful with herself, she would admit that it'd take an incredible set of circumstances for her to even come close to his power. Even full, and fully armed, and in her own element, Dark knew that the battle between the two of them, if it ever came to that, would be long-and drawn out. And that she'd probably lose. She had heard that others had presumed that they had similar power, but Dark knew that being conceited like that often led to getting killed.

Nosferatu, some called her. Like Dark actually knew that that meant. Like she cared, either. Anderson and her walked along together, Dark's mood fouling with every extra step she had to take to keep up with the Scottsman, and Anderson just walking along talking nonsense about the "mission of the Vatican" and "the will of the Holy Father". Old stuff. Stuff Dark had heard all to many times before. But something towards the end of his long winded tirade caught Dark's attention. How'd it go? Something like:

"Blah blah blah…Vatican…blah…Holy See….Blah blah blah….Eef Alucahd dies or is eencapacitated durihn this mission, you'll be free tae leave with yar'h fledglin'."

Or something like that.

Dark looked up, her eyes narrowed and turning a slightly more crimson shade. She wanted to make sure she had heard right.

"'Scuse me?"

Anderson grinned down at her like he had just caught some sort of helpless animal.

"If'n ya help us with the detain'in or death of Alucahd on this mission, ya'll be free tae go."

Dark couldn't help but grin. But Anderson wasn't done.

"But if'n yah fail…" Anderson let the sentence hang, knowing that Dark'd probably find something awful to fill in the blank.

"Understood. Will I be able to change clothing and have my weapons back?"

Anderson nodeed.

"If'n it'll help yeh, sure."

Dark smiled.

"As you wish then, Father Anderson."

"As you wish."

Dark grinned and vanished from her spot next to Anderson. With his permission she began to get ready for the next mission. And this time, she wouldn't be wearing those stupid robes. She'd be in full regalia, ready for nearly anything as long as she could get a good drink in. The thought gladdened her heart. Her undead, rotting, blackened heart.


	2. Stole the Queen From Her Bed

A/N: WHOO!! A REVIEW! THANKIES!

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_Chapter One Re-cap:_

_Dark grinned and vanished from her spot next to Anderson. With his permission she began to get ready for the next mission. And this time, she wouldn't be wearing those stupid robes. She'd be in full regalia, ready for nearly anything as long as she could get a good drink in. The thought gladdened her heart. Her undead, rotting, heart. _

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X-NoTmYmAsTeR-X

Chapter Two:

Stole the Queen From Her Bed

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An hour or so later (Dark couldn't tell…she had a horrendous sense of time and timing) herself and Father Anderson were off. Dark slept most of the way to goodness knows where the Vatican was dragging her this time. All she really cared about was the fact that she was comfortably dressed for once. No robes, no stupid rosaries. No, now Dark was wearing clothing that enabled her to fight to the fullest. And she was armed to the teeth. Quite literally. It would be useless to count all the weapons Dark was armed with, for she had the uncanny ability to find weapons where others would see none. Nearly everything could be made into a weapon, if one only knew how to wield it. That's what made Dark truly dangerous.

For the moment, Dark sat, brooding in the darkest corner of an airplane, far away from her fledgling and as far away from the Scotsman as she could physically manage. She did not approve of being named his partner. And by partner, the Vatican really meant slave. He had been given control of her seals, and therefore could cause her intense pain whenever he wished.

Which really, really, sucked.

But there was one upside to traveling, by night, on one of the Vatican's own planes. See, the Vatican was the type of organization that would keep it's own in the dark about the innermost workings. Which meant, in very plain English, that Dark's existence was a well-guarded secret. Very few outside Iscariot knew of her existence, and once you actually got to someone who knew of Dark, they wouldn't be privileged enough to know exactly where she was being kept, nor where her fledgling was, nor anything actually important about her. Which mean that the little frightened air steward knew nothing of her. And because Anderson was preoccupied with incessantly quoting bible verses under his breath in preparation for battle, Dark could play a bit. She waved the man over, her eyes going from violet to red behind the black shades she wore.

The man came, hesitatingly. Dark understood why. She was dressed like something out of a history book and didn't look like she was someone who said "please" nor "thank you". Her entire outfit was dated to something back around the colonial era. Her jacket was loose and hung about her knees, her shirt had a slight ruffle that poofed out at the collar, spilling over the tight black vest she wore. Her boots reached nearly to her knees and her pants hung loosely over them. Every article of her clothing was dirty in some way. Her coat's edges were tattered and browned from being out in the elements and there was a distinct smell of blood and salt that hung about in the air around her.

She was lounged quite comfortably, slouching in her seat so far as to be able to rest her legs on the seat across the aisle from her. The man stopped when he got near her, bowing and muttering a hello. The chick in front of him obviously freaked him out. Dark lifted an eyebrow and her gaze slid over to Anderson, who wasn't looking her way in the slightest. Excellent. Dark reached up with a gloved hand and scooted her shades down a bit, revealing her eerily colored eyes. The man immediately stared into her eyes and with a slight exertion of power, Dark took control of his mind and spoke lowly, but politely.

"I'd like some red wine please. An older vintage would be nice, but whatever you have on hand is fine."

What she told him to do through her control over his mind was similar, but at the same time completely different. Dark wanted blood, and she aimed to have him bring it to her. And it'd be warm, fresh blood. A whole glassful. With that, Dark pushed her shades back up the bridge of her nose. The man bowed again and robotically walked to the steward's cabin-thing and did Dark's dastardly bidding. The woman in question grinned rather manically as her eyes followed the man as he left. She sat up in her chair and reached down to grab her hat. Every vampire worth his or her age knew that keeping the sun out of their eyes was of utmost importance. Hers was dated, along with her clothing. A tri-cornered hat, the color of weathered black leather. She ran her fingers along the edges, her mouth twisting into a frown when she saw that those who had kept her clothing "safe" had neglected to keep the hat from being squished and by doing so, caused the feather stuck into her hat to break.

Frowning fully, Dark pulled the broken feather out of her hat with a short tug. She twirled the brown and white feather deftly between her fingers, watching it carefully. The steward came back a moment later, his eyes slowly returning to their natural color. He presented her with a silver platter, covered with a white cloth. But the delicious smell that emanated from the single wine glass that sat upon the tray was what Dark's gaze fixated on. She reached forward, her black gloved hand meeting the cold glass of the wine glass and gently lifted. Behind the shades, Dark's eyes turned a deep crimson as she lifted the glass to her lips. But before she could take a sip, she noted that the steward's hand was bleeding. She set her glass down and motioned him over again, her face breaking into a grin.

"You seem to have cut yourself, would you mind if I take a look at your injury? I'm a doctor and I just want to make sure that there is nothing embedded in your wound that could end up giving you a nasty infection."

The steward swallowed visibly, unsure of what to do, but came closer and held his hand out. There was a sizeable gash along his thumb-something that could have easily happened while cutting something up or open. Dark dipped her head down to the wound and inhaled deeply, the sweet smell of his blood filling her nostrils. She was hard pressed not to take the steward right then and suck him dry, but the reminder that Father Anderson was still about kept her from doing so. Twisting the man's hand deftly in hers, Dark shielded both her face and his hand from Anderson's gaze before reaching out with her tongue to lap up blood still leaking from the wound. The man yanked his hand away faster than you could say "Vampire" and scurried away from a now-chuckling Dark.

She picked her glass up again and swirled it expertly, watching the red liquid in it form a mini vortex at her command. Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

Dark grinned and downed the entire glass in one go, the still-warn liquid filling her dead cells with new energy. It was a fair start, but she needed _more_. So much more. Dark sighed and leaned back in her seat, her eyes closing from behind her shades. This could end up being quite enjoyable. She should pull that particular trick more often.

"Father…" Dark said suddenly, turning her head towards the priest.

He looked up, surprised that Dark had spoken. She wasn't a chatty one.

"Why did you choose tonight, of all nights? Why tonight do you choose to finally reveal me to the Hellsing organization? Why this night of the full moon must you see it fit to finally show your hand?"

Dark nudged her sunglasses down to stare the green-eyed father in the face.

"You do realize the significance of this very day, do you not? Or did Maxwell not see it fit to tell you…"

Dark grinned and removed her glasses completely. For a moment, she chose to loose herself in her memories. They were browned from age, but still crystal sharp and exact. Dark never forgot anything. Especially about a day as important as this one. She had really only just remembered-the blood had jogged her memory and added a new level of awareness that she had been missing for quite some time.

"Today…"

The world around her faded to sepia-colored tones as Dark truly lost herself to her memories. The airplane's interior was replaced with the interior of a captain's cabin and Dark herself changed a small bit. Instead of her hair hanging loosely about her face as it did now, it was pulled back with a black ribbon tied into a bow. She stood on shaking knees as her door was forced open. In her hand she held a sword, and in her other hand her grasp was wrapped about a blunderbuss. One without ammunition. Not an optimal situation. Through the door stomped a man drenched in blood. Blood she knew to be her crew's. She was captain, yes, but her crew had seen too lock her away when they had been boarded not a half candle mark before. She was their Queen, and they cherished her like the most rare of jewels. Dark's knees stopped shaking as the man drew closer to her. Her eyes were fixed on the floor as the man drew closer still.

And closer and he'd be able to touch her. Dark slashed out with her sword, scoring a line of blood across the man's face. He recoiled, brining his hand up to touch the thin line of blood that dribbled down his face. Dark darted past him, with every intent of escaping through her door and flinging herself overboard in order to escape the eerie man, but the moment she opened the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. There, in front of her stood her crew, animated and seemingly alive. Dark's face broke out into a smile as she moved forward to greet them. But her crew didn't move to greet her. The rushed forward and tried to attack. Tried being the operative word there.

Mutiny was not something Dark was unused to, she just didn't expect it from _he_r crew. She backpedaled furiously, her back bumping into the red-eyed man who had taken control of her crew. His arms snaked around her waist and his hands forced her head up and to the side, exposing her pale neck. Her pulse jumped rapidly beneath her skin, and the man breathed out, his foul breath running across her skin. He twisted her head again, forcing Dark to look at her shuffling crew. He spoke, the words in a language Dark refused to comprehend anymore, and tilted her head off to the side once again.

He had pinned her arms to her side, making her weapons useless and keeping her from striking back at him. She struggled, trying to wrench herself free from then man's lecherous embrace as she had done many times before, but nothing worked on him. His grip only tightened around her slim frame, threatening to crush her bones as easily as one would crush a bug underfoot. Dark closed her eyes and breathed out, going limp all at once, her body sliding from the man's grip as she crumpled to the floor. Surprised, the man remained frozen for a moment, looking down at his now-empty arms before getting the butt of Dark's blunderbuss crushed into the side of his head. The force of her blow surprised even Dark herself and she dropped the empty gun. The sound of it clattering to the floor marked her crew's next rush to overtake her.

Eye's narrowed dangerously and now the color of chips of glaciers, Dark lashed out with her sword. She was not going to die here. No way. Shining silver sliced through the bodies of her crew. She mourned their loss as she cut them down, her emotions making salt water leak from the corners of her eyes and fall down her face. Even as her crewmates fell, it seemed that more kept coming, some crawling towards her even after various limbs had been hacked from their body. Dark panicked, swinging her sword faster and faster, frantically trying to get them away from her. Behind the falling bodies, Dark could clearly see the glowing red eyes of the strange man who had attacked her ship. He was grinning, and Dark could clearly see the canine-like fangs that adorned his mouth. She blanched and her sword arm dropped to her side for a moment.

She was tackled and pinned to the ground, rough fingers grabbing at her and bruising her flesh. Dark didn't scream but tried to bat them away, even as her coat was ripped off, even as her vest was torn away from her skin, even as claw-like fingers tried to remove her shirt. Then finally, they stopped. They backed away as the man came close. As Dark searched the faces of her crewmates for someone to rescue her, she finally noticed that they too, had blood-red eyes. She would get no help. Dark crawled backwards, one hand trying to keep her shirt closed, the other holding her sword out towards the man. Her arm was shaking, but her eyes remained cold and hard. If she was going to die, she was going to go out swinging. The man drew closer and knelt in front of Dark, his grin wide and evil. He yanked her sword away from her, grabbing it by the blade and tossing it away. Dark gaped at him, for the wounds she had inflicted upon him were gone, healed completely in an incredibly short amount of time. He reached out and latched onto her arm and yanked her closer, practically underneath him. The edges of her shirt rolled upwards as she brought both of her hands up and over her head, revealing dual brands on the fleshy joint of her elbows. A large "P" on both of her arms marked her as pirate, and the fact that she had been branded twice meant that she had escaped the gallows more than once and was to be put to death on the spot. Dark winced as the man's grip tightened on her wrists, and struggled again, her shirt flying open as she did so.

He spoke, and whatever color was in Dark's face drained away. He pinned her hands down with only one of his hands and once again, tilted her head off to the side. There was to be no escape for Dark this time, and as his mouth drew closer and closer to the pulse point in her neck, Dark closed her eyes and sent a prayer up to whoever would listen, hoping that her death would be as quick and painless as possible.

Crimson eyes flew open and Dark stood. With one fluid movement placed her tri-cornered hat atop her head. She brought her left hand's fingers to her chest and let the rest atop her sternum, nestled in the valley of her breasts. She looked down upon the Scotsman, her posture assertive and her gaze steeled. Back ramrod straight, and chin raised haughtily into the air, Dark looked the picture of a long-lost leader of a gang of ruffians, which was very near the truth.

"…is the day I died."

Dark's face twisted into a sneer of utmost hatred and loathing. She relaxed her pose but continued to glare down at the Paladin. He didn't look all that impressed, but his breath was making a cloud of steam that hovered about his face. Dark's dangerous mood had lowered the temperature to something a bit below comfortable to most humans. She personally, didn't mind all that much. She didn't really feel all that much when the weather changed, except for a nagging creak in her left hand. Age did have some drawbacks, even for vampires, she supposed. But she didn't know for sure. Most of her vampire acquaintances (for you couldn't truly call any of them friends) had long since gone into the deep slumber from which no one woke up. Dark was alone, save for her fledgling. The air returned to normal temperature as the burning in Dark's hands started up.

She sat, arranging her coat in the chair artistically before turning herself and the chair so she could stare out the window. Bright lights lit up the earth beneath the plane, and her undead stomach lurched up into her mouth as the plane descended. Dark had forgotten how much she hated flying, but at least this time she was a passenger, and not stuck in a coffin down in the cargo bay. She hated the cargo bay more than she hated airplanes.

Anderson was still quiet, but his green eyes were firmly fixed on the female Nosferatu in front of him. She was an odd one, for sure.

"What exactly are we doing in London?" Dark asked suddenly, peering out the window, and searching the grounds below her.

"Eradicatin' heathen Protestants an' their mongrel of a mostarh on their own turf. Maxwell has given the orders tae attack. And we shall, o' this verah night, wipe from the face o' this fine earth the Hellsing Organization," Anderson said lowly, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.

"So, what exactly is our game plan then, Father? Bust in the front door's and declare a presence to the whole of the Organization, then go on a killing spree until we kill both Integra and Lord Alucard?"

Anderson looked up, eyes wide in surprise. Dark had refused to refer to anyone as "Lord" or "Master", but she just had while referencing the heathen's attack dog. Dark looked at him just before she finished putting her glasses back on, and grinned, flashing her vampiric fangs.

"What?"

After Anderson explained exactly what was going to happen, the rest of the flight was silent. The rest of the flight wasn't all that long, but the silence was deafening. Anderson was getting ready for battle, and Dark was just plain getting ready. This night was not going to go well for her. Alucard was not a being with which one trifled, especially not on his own turf, and especially not when _his _master could be endangered. And she was far weaker than she should be when taking on such a challenge. She needed more blood. Rubbing her temples Dark stood as the plane slowed to a halt, her coat swishing outwards behind her.

Oh, well.

Tonight was as good a night as any to die.

All the more honor for losing to a being that far outclassed her.

She followed dully behind Anderson as they made their way through the late-night London streets. He knew where he was going, and Dark wasn't going to bother trying to care. If the mission went well, she'd be following Anderson out of there. If it went as she thought it would go, then she wasn't going to leave alive. Which was probably what the Vatican wanted anyway.

A thought struck the vampiress at that very moment. She had, if she remembered correctly invoked the right of parley when the Vatican had first captured her. Sure, it was a pirate thing, but still…those things were not without their own brand of magic.

If she could only get Anderson to break his word to her about anything he had said directly to her, then she'd be free. Jackie'd be in a wee spot of trouble, but Dark had trained the girl well. She'd be fine. So. That'd be her game plan then. Just get Anderson to break his word to her and she'd be off scot-free. Oops, a pun. A wickedly awful pun. But funny nonetheless, no? Oh ho ho, this night would be fun indeed.


	3. And Bound Her In Her Bones

A/N: WHOO!! A REVIEW! THANKIES! And yes, this chapter is entitled: "And Bound Her In Her Bones". POTC ALL THE WAY.

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_Chapter Two Re-cap:_

_If she could only get Anderson to break his word to her about anything he had said directly to her, then she'd be free. Jackie'd be in a wee spot of trouble, but Dark had trained the girl well. She'd be fine. So. That'd be her game plan then. Just get Anderson to break his word to her and she'd be off scot-free. Oops, a pun. A wickedly awful pun. But funny nonetheless, no? Oh ho ho, this night would be fun indeed. _

* * *

X-NoTmYmAsTeR-X

_Chapter Three:_

**And Bound Her In Her Bones**

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The Hellsing mansion. How marvelous. It looked exactly as one would expect a vampire's castle to look. And it really wasn't even Lord Alucard's castle. It was the castle of his human master, Lady Integra. However, that did not take away from the inherent dark aura and beauty of the old castle. Anderson and Dark stalked closer to the front gates. Dark of course, hated the idea of a full-frontal assault. Full frontal assaults were for the insanely powerful and the insanely stupid. Dark was neither. Anderson was stupid. Not all that powerful. Just stupid. Dark sighed loudly, closing her eyes and reflecting on the outcomes that promised to be brought about tonight. None of them boded well for her.

This was indeed going to end up being a night for her to remember. If she lived through it, that is.

And she probably wasn't going to live through it.

Which was just brilliant. The more she thought of her initial plan to get the Scotsman to break his word to her, the less she though it would actually work. Anderson was to honorable a man too break his word to her. So he'd be more apt to _break_ her. Which, as Dark thought of it, was also a violation of parley. So that'd work too. But then there was the Scotsman's uncanny ability to shove her out of the way when he wanted to claim the kill. Eh, this was far to troublesome for Dark to bother figuring out at this moment. Sighing, the vampiress rubbed her temples as she mentally began preparing herself for battle.

Anderson faded away from her side and Dark belatedly noticed that a guard was on patrol and coming their way. Curse Anderson and his not-speaking-to-her thing. He had not given her anything to work with and now she had to deal with this. The man quickened as he caught sight of the still-indecisive Dark. Dark hissed something lowly, under her breath as the guard approached her, callously warning her that this was not a sightseeing stop and that she was to remove herself from the premises immediately. Dark quickly made some shitty story up and tossed it back to the guy, tipping her shades down a bit as she spoke until her glowing red eyes bored into his.

Very intimidating.

Poor sap never knew what him.

One minute he was questioning a questionable girl, the next said questionable girl was at his front, her gloved hands skimming sensually over his chest. His eye glazed over as the fingers of the very attractive female brushed ever so gently over his throat. Dark's glasses were gone, and her hands felt like they were being held in the midst of a fierce flame, but she could work fast if she had too. Swiftly, Dark pressed her lithe form to the hard body of the red-faced and drooling solider. Dark's lips grazed against the jumping pulse point of the man, and a breathy groan escaped from both their mouths at the same time, but for completely different reasons.

The man was contemplating going on guard duty more often if this happened again.

Dark's nature dictated her movements, and reveled in the fact that she was about to sink her teeth into delicious warm flesh. And she did so with an animalistic hiss, her fangs breaking through his flesh easily. Blood flowed into her mouth with rapturous speed. Dark moaned around the blood in her mouth, in her throat, all over her. It was absolute ecstasy. The man writhed beneath her grip, but Dark's grasp was not so easily deterred. She stayed with the groaning man, hissing in pleasure as he wilted in her arms. Her hands burned so much, but the pain was washed away by the glorious red elixir pumping through her body. If it had been another vampire, or had the man been a virgin, she probably would've climaxed right there. Blood, even after so long was the strongest of aphrodisiacs.

But Dark did not desire carnal pleasure. For her, pleasure was derived from bloodletting. Bloodplay, anything with blood in it. She craved the vermeil substance more than she craved the sun, or the feel of a ship bucking beneath her feet. It was everything she needed to continue her un-life. The man's carcass dropped from her burning hands and Dark grinned at the moon, her mouth smeared with blood. Anderson charged out of the bushes, angry and radiating holy fury. He grabbed the bloody-mouthed vampire by her cravat and yanked her up until she was eye level with him. Dark mentally cursed the man's height once again, but she only grinned as he hissed warning after warning at her. Teeth stained red, Dark look the picture of vampiric ecstasy. She couldn't help a silent crow of victory even as her hands burned and burned and burned.

She could _feel_ again. She could sense everything around her again. She could hear the heartbeat in Anderson's chest. And she could feel the vast spire of power that was the Lord Alucard. Anderson threw her away from him, hissing holy curses at her as he did so. If Dark hadn't taken that unfortunate guard moments earlier, she would've hit the wall surrounding the Hellsing Manor. But she had, so she simply chose to defy gravity and stand parallel to the ground, her feet firmly placed on the wall as if they belonged there. She leered at the Priest from her position before stepping down onto earth proper.

"I thought you were saving all that holy wrath for Lord Alucard, not for a pawn such as myself, Anderson," Dark mocked from her relatively safe position. Anderson growled and motioned for Dark to follow him.

Grinning rather triumphantly, Dark followed behind him, walking through anything that came into her path instead of going around it. She now could, and would make nearly full use of her powers. She didn't care that she was practically broadcasting her presence to anyone who would and could listen. They'd know she was here soon enough. As Anderson sidled through a door, Dark walked through the adjoining wall. That's all it took and both were inside the manor. Without a word, Anderson stalked off, leaving Dark to her own devices. A move he would regret later. Dark knew he was after everything that stood for Hellsing, whereas Dark was just to do her job.

Without a secondary thought, Anderson sent a command through the bonds that tied Dark. She was to kill. And kill. And kill. None was to live. Barely audible, Dark hissed her acquiescence to his will.

"As you wish."

Dark struck out, hands in her pockets. She went in the opposite direction from Anderson, hoping that the Hellsing soldiers had the sense to be elsewhere. Not that she didn't want to kill them, she just didn't want to kill them when it wasn't by her own will. Sighing darkly, she saw a solider coming her way. She caught the eye of the solider and he rushed forward, barking something intelligible into his walkie-talkie. Dark walked closer as the man broke out into a run towards her, his gun drawn.

When he was naught but a few paces away, Dark caught the man's gaze and held it with her bright, burning, crimson eyes. Much like she had done to the steward on the plane, she took hold of the man's mind. But unlike the steward she did now make him do her bidding. Like a sadistic little child peeling the wings and legs off a helpless bug, Dark shredded the man's mind. She grinned as the man's eyes glazed over and as his body slumped to the floor.

She took great pride in stepping on his body as she walked by. She contemplated sucking him dry, but Anderson apparently thought that she would do that and silently commanded her to not drink any blood. Dark hissed loudly, baring her fangs at nothing. To say that she was upset would be a understatement.

Dark was pissed.

Rage fueled her powers, but she had so little to fuel that it barely registered as anything more than a blip of extra energy. Gone in a matter of moments. Even with the blood she had taken from both the steward and the unlucky guard was not enough to undo the years of near-starvation she had been suffering through. Even through her body was singing with new energy she hadn't had in so long, the actual energy she had was barely enough to win a battle against Lord Alucard's fledgling. She staggered down the hallway, her footfalls uneven.

To tell the truth, Dark felt like she was either drunk or stoned.

The first good, full blood taking she had had in years had her feeling so open, so…fake that it was boggling her greater sensibilities. She could feel, so couldn't. She could see, but she was blind.

She was on, she was off.

She was a paradox of life and death.

The eternal Yin and Yang. Constant motion switching between one extreme and the other.

A sound snapped her out of self-imposed reverie. Soldiers of Hellsing.

"Leave before your last breath leaves you."

Dark spoke softly, but she made herself heard. The soldiers were taken aback for a moment or so, but they pressed forward anyway. Dark looked up, her eyes dilated and glowing vermeil. They saw, but still advanced. Shining silver metal gleamed once, twice, thrice. Dark walked past the very still soldiers, wanting to get away before their dead bodies fell to the ground and began to spew their delicious crimson life blood across the floor.

Alarms sounded. Dark winced at the harsh sound. She looked for the nearest source of the discordant sound, and wasn't able to delve it out. She sighed, upset that she had to listen to the unholy squawking of mortals. As she walked along the same corridor, she could clearly hear the sounds of Anderson doing battle with the soldiers of Hellsing. Goodness knows that he was having fun. Dark sighed, and trudged forward. As she walked, she felt some sort of…inconsistency in the floor beneath her feet. Dark stomped. Once. Twice.

Her booted feet made hollow, dead sounds as they connected with the floor. Dark was familiar with that particular sound. It was the sound of a smugglers' cabin. Or at least something hidden beneath the stone floor of Hellsing manor. If memory served correctly, that was where Alucard resided. If he wasn't already engaging the Scotsman, he'd be down there. Dark closed her eyes and imagined herself expanding, and sinking down below the floor. There was a wave of pressure that passed from her toes to the crown of her head, then the distinct feeling of absolute nothingness beneath her feet.

She fell three or four feet to the ground. Her boots made a dull 'thump' as they connected with the floor. Dark crumpled with the action, falling to a wholly undignified lump on the ground.

"Bollocks."

Dark hissed between her teeth as the bonds flared again. She had forgotten that Anderson had specifically forbade her to curse in battle. She curled up as the pain ricocheted through her thin, gaunt, and starved frame. It was getting worse. Or at least she could feel it more now. She was exhausted after merely going through a solid barrier. True, she hadn't tried to do anything like that in a while, and might just be a little bit out of practice, but _still_. This had gone on for to long. She needed release. Escape. Freedom.

Her body craved it as much as it craved blood.

If she continued to be bound in such a manner, she would undoubtedly die. Her little spark of non-life would finally peeter out into absolute nothingness and she would cease to exist. As much as Dark loved her vampiric nightlife, she could not stand to be bound to Anderson, nor to the Vatican for much longer.

The spark, nearly extinguished itself, but managing to hold on.

Dark stood, shaking on suddenly weak knees, wobbling on unsteady feet. She tried to move forward, but only swayed in the wrong direction. Her body followed the movement and she stumbled to the side, her back colliding with the wall. Her head met stone with a sick soft sound. Dark pressed her back into the wall, trying to stay on her feet. She heard the door open and turned her head towards the noise.

Her vision blurred as she _felt_ Lord Alucard enter the room. Her lips pulled back into a half-smile that bore the emotional stability and happiness of a grimace. She heard the click of a gun's safety coming off and sighed, her entire body crumpling forward. Her sudden loss of strength made no sense. Even forbidden to drink, she shouldn't be this bent out of shape. Yet here she was, about to be blasted into pieces by the first true Nosferatu to ever walk the night.

Dark smiled, her fangs shrinking to the size most would expect to see in the oral cavity of a human. With a grunt of exhaustion, Dark lifted her body back up until her back was flat against the wall and angled her head so she could look her death in the eye. So she wouldn't be freed. So Jacqueline would be. So she would die. So Jacqueline wouldn't. She couldn't do anything to keep her crew from dieing, but maybe this time when she died, she would do something right and leave someone better off. Blue eyes regarded crimson as Dark of the Fey readied herself to die.

"Hullo Lord Alucard. Nice night to die, ain't it?"


	4. The Seas Be Ours

-_Chapter Three Re-cap-_

"_Hullo Lord Alucard. Nice night to die, ain't it?" _

* * *

X-_NoT_mY_mAsTeR_-X

_Chapter Four:_

**The Seas Be Ours**

* * *

The first strike never came. Dark furrowed her eyebrows. She should have been shot by now.

But she kept her eyes closed. Sometimes predators like Alucard liked to draw out the anguish of their prey by holding off the shot until their intended target looks at them. Dark knew that's what she liked to do. But without any weapon and no strength to speak of, Dark wasn't in any position to do so. She shifted slightly against the wall, wincing as her body screamed its aversion to that movement. She heard him walk closer.

_Point blank…huh. Guess it'll be quick this way, aye?_

Dark tightened her closed eyes even more, waiting for the click and then the bang and then the end. Again. Nothing. Ever so cautiously, Dark opened her left eye, and peered through it at Alucard. He was a vision in red, his vermeil eyes glinting dangerously from behind his glasses. Her breath hitched in her throat - his mere presence was overpowering. Her head lolled back as the urge to present her throat to the masterful vampire in front of her swamped her. He was just so…much stronger than her.

"Ahh…"

Dark closed her eyes again and her head dropped forward - completely on purpose this time. She felt like a stupid little girl in front of her crush. Stammering like that. Foolish. She was a _pirate_. No. Not just that. She was a pirate _Lord_. She shouldn't be afraid of him…she shouldn't…and she wasn't. No, it wasn't fear that had her shaking. She was excited. After all these years. After all these years, she had met someone who got her dead heart moving. She wanted to fight.

_I can't…Zounds, I want too…I can't._

Dark groaned again as she picked herself up, leaning heavily on the wall behind her, not trusting her legs to hold her up. With a metallic sound, she drew her scimitar and dug the point into the ground. She grimaced at the sound, twisting her face into a snarl. Brows furrowed, Dark chanced a look at Alucard. He was looking at her. Her head dropped down and her shoulders shook.

Dark was laughing. Her face twisted to a grin, and her entire body shuddered with the silent laughter.

"Sorreh, Lord Alucard. Strict orders an' all that. I'm not allowed ta fight anyone…"

She lurched forward and had to make a stutter-step to keep from landing flat on her face.

"Fu-argh!"

Pain lanced through her body, triggering a spurt of blood from her mouth. Damn Anderson and his love of cutting up her insides. She hissed a word through her clenched teeth and another short spurt of blood came from between her lips. It rolled down her chin, tracing a red pattern down her neck before staining her blouse.

"Heh…sorry about the blood. Anderson doesn't like the cursin'."

Dark managed a weak smile as she wiped blood off her chin, smearing it on the white fabric of her blouse. She eyed the blood warily, as if considering trying to lick it off the fabric, but a warning twinge in her gut warned her against it. Dark re-came to the conclusion that she _really_ hated Anderson. She straightened slowly, wincing as her body made its disapproval of that motion known.

"You're here with Anderson?"

Dark laughed, blood-froth spilling from her lips with the motion. She looked up at Alucard, who she was just noticing was the slightest bit taller than Anderson, and grinned, flashing teeth stained with her own blood.

"Yah can say that…"

The click of a gun coming up to point at her head garnered another short laughing fit. Dark's purple eyes lit up with mischief. Even in what could become her final moments, she could crack a joke. Her personality was incorrigible, and she really couldn't help herself.

"…But you can say alotta things, can'tcha?"

It seemed that mortal peril did not sway her sense of humor, childish as it may be. Dark pulled her sword from the ground and hefted the weapon with arms that suddenly felt very heavy. Ah well, death _was_ decided. It was just the manner in which she died that still needed to be decided. She resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going to enjoy her final hour. Such was her un-life.

"Anderson an' his…" Dark paused, looking for a word that was not a curse to describe her captors. "…handlers, you could say, decided ta bring me out tanight."

Alucard gave her a strange look, and Dark just beamed a smile at him.

"Yah, I belong to the Vatican…kinda like you belong to Lady Hellsing. Feel free to shoot whenever. I know it's coming up sometime tonight…If not you, then Anderson'll keep up wif the seal an' I'll be as good as dead."

Dark shrugged, as if the abrupt end to her un-life was nothing. After "living" for so long, Dark had no qualms about seeing what truly was at the end of it all. Even if she wasn't going to enjoy what she saw.

"An' I really only see et ta be fair tha' I tell you…"

The woman stopped mid-sentence as blood came from her mouth. She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. A strange gurgling scream ripped from her throat as she doubled up, her own blood spilling from her mouth and nose. She let go of her sword, and contented herself with whimpering sadly as pain not even she could stand washed over her.

"…Anderson…I didn't even do anything'…"

"Where is Judas Priest?"

Dark looked up, her eyes now the same dark blue shade as the waters of the deepest ocean. Her brows were furrowed, not in anger or frustration, but confusion.

"…Who?" She paused, looking up at Alucard, until with a bright grin and a triumphant straightening of her back, "Oh! You mean Anderson! He's ah…"

Another pause as she closed one eye in concentration and lifted an arm, her index finger pointing straight out. She moved her arm a bit to the left, up and then slightly back to the right.

"About 30 some odd feet thataways. But I won't go rushin' off…he's comin' this way rather fa-"

"AMEN!"

"-st."

Anderson burst through the door, silver blades gleaming dangerously. Dark winced, but still kept a semblance of a pleased grin on her face. She looked up to Alucard (who was a freaking giant from her position kneeling on the floor) and hacked out a laugh along with more blood.

"Told 'ya."

Dark looked from Anderson to Alucard, her eyes picking out the contrasting colors between the two men. Alucard wore red and black, Anderson wore black green and silver. Red and green…

_They look like Christmas standing together…_

Dark bust out laughing at the thought, drawing a strange look from both men. Her laugh was altered by the thrashing that had been done on her insides and general misuse of her voice, but it was definitely still a laugh. Both very tall men looked at her and she looked back, eyes wide as if she had been caught with her hand in the blood bank.

"…Sorry…carry on killing each other…"

The two very tall men stared at Dark a bit longer, then went back to what they seemed to enjoy oh so much.

That would be yelling at each other and generally causing a ruckus.

"En the Name of owah Lahrd, Jesus Chrahst Ah will wahpe you and yahr filth froom the surface of this fair ahth."

Dark sighed, one eyebrow lifted in exasperation. Always with the filth and the annihilation and the blahblahblah. Dark shivered, as if a chill had settled in her bones…which was weird - she never felt cold. She shook her head, hoping that the motion would make the bone-chilling cold would go away. The cold grew colder, to the point where it felt like fire. She clutched at her arms, doubling over as Alucard and Anderson raged at each other, bullets and swords flying every which way.

She watched, her eyes fading from purple to lavender, and finally settling on a very light sky blue. She may be basically down and out, but watching a master Nosferatu do battle was something she never passed on. He wielded his guns magnificently, both to attack and defend when he felt like defending. Even Dark could see that Anderson was no match for Alucard, though Alucard was taking far more damage than Anderson.

_So, what now? Do we carry on this fight until the end of the world when God and his demons ravage the earth and pass judgment on us wicked souls?_

The words came unbidden to her mind, a memory of a battle long past when she was still young. Back when she was still actually alive. The retort, still funny after the long centuries brought a smile to her face.

_Or you could just give up._

The more Dark thought on it, the funnier it became until she started laughing. At first it was just a tremble in her shoulders, but that grew to a shake, and that grew to a audible chuckle and that expanded into a full-blown guffaw until Dark was laughing with her mouth wide open, head thrown back and her entire body shaking with the mirth she found in that memory.

She stood, still quaking with laughter, her blade hanging limply from her hand. She didn't care that she sounded deranged - she was insane. At her age, it was rather hard to keep up a façade of sanity, and this bout of insanity made her feel a little bit better about the cold in her body and the hatred in her veins.

Her grip tightened about the hilt of her blade, and she hefted the weapon with arms that suddenly felt stronger. The cold seemed to leave with the movement, but Dark wasn't very much concentrated on that. She swung the blade experimentally, the heft of the weapon lessening as her muscles warmed to the favored weapon of old times. The laughter subsided into a soft chuckle and with the next supposed opening, Dark leapt into the fray, a unintelligible shout ripping from her throat.

It was all about the joy of the battle as she began moving to attack. She was situated between Anderson and Alucard, but she didn't mind. This was where she felt best, she found. The cold left her completely, and instead, the once-familiar blood song rose in her. She found herself moving in steps and patterns that she hadn't practiced in many a year, bullets and blades rending the air about her with deadly intent.

Dark was lost to the music of battle, the crescendos and diminuendos dictating every step and turn with precision. She practically danced across the battle-scarred room, legs kicking out to act as counterbalance to her movements that scored deep. Alucard's blood splashed across her body, coating her own blood with his own. The smell itself was enough to galvanize her into fiercer action, the taste of freedom already sweet on her tongue and grew sweeter still with ever cut she opened on him.

Her laughter faded, replaced by the near-manic grin of a woman possessed by the sole urge to complete a task. She wanted freedom for herself and for her fledgling bad enough to destroy anything in her path. Dark felt her long-gone power come back, filling her with new strength - strength that had been absent for so long. She didn't question it, but she used it, stepping faster and striking harder.

A bullet caught her in the shoulder, spinning her around. Dark looked at the wound, grinned and shrugged, the flesh already in the process of healing, muscle and bone re-forming at an alarming rate. She flexed the injured arm, the heat in her blood practically screaming in her ears.

Anderson's blades erupted from behind her, and she didn't flinch - he couldn't hurt her, lest he lose her servitude. And in order to stop Alucard he needed her help so she was-

A blade grew from her throat, sending holy pain through her entire body.

Dark spun, mouth moving in curse words that could not be enunciated with her now-sliced voice box. She reached behind her with one hand and pulled the blessed blade from her body, letting it drop to the ground with a frown. Her mind slowed down from the battle rage, and began processing the fact that Anderson had just stabbed her on purpose. The heat grew to a boil, but her heart was still.

"Anderson. What have you done?"

Rage grew in her, and with it, the long-suppressed power of a old vampire rose like gore in her throat. He had broken his word.

Another bullet ripped through her body. She turned to Alucard and hissed, her eyes narrowed.

"Shoot me again, I dare you."

He shot her again. Figures.

Dark shrugged the new holes off, and turned back to Anderson. Her eyes were glowing red, all previous signs of weakness gone. Dark of the Fey was back, and she was pissed.

"You broke your word Anderson. Our deal is off, and I-"

A weak burst of pain came from her hands, and with another growl, Dark dropped her sword and ripped her black gloves off. They dropped to the floor, now nothing more than tattered fabric. She left the sword where it lay, the rage in her not allowing for something as elegant as a blade. She would rip the oath breaker in front of her to pieces with her own hands.

"None of that. I will have none of that Anderson."


End file.
